


Fierce

by orphan_account



Series: Nargothrond [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, brief mention of Finrod, should read 'Dangerous Game' to understand this best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celegorm takes what he wants - but so does Orodreth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fierce

**Author's Note:**

> for an anon who wanted to see a companion piece to 'Dangerous Game'.

Celegorm had made the first moves, catching Orodreth just outside his room and walking him back against the wall, and in the first few moments - when the younger elf went wide-eyed at Celegorm’s smile, when the kisses Celegorm laid against his neck made him shiver - Celegorm had judged him to be like his uncle. Reticent, uncertain as to what to do when approached, and Celegorm could only hope he would be a little more pliant.  
  
But then he had nipped at his throat, and Orodreth had come alive.  
  
It was lucky that the younger elf’s bedroom was only a few paces away; Celegorm had to guide them to it, chuckling breathlessly as Orodreth snarled impatiently. “Easy, easy,” he said, as if trying to calm a restless hound, and the moment that the door was closed Orodreth brought him down like he truly was a hound, closing in for the kill. The eager warm weight of him hit Celegorm in the chest, pressed against his legs to bring him to the floor, and as Celegorm hit the carpet Orodreth claimed the high ground, straddling him with a triumphant gleam in his eye.  
  
Celegorm threw back his head, pale hair spilling across the weave of the rug, and laughed whole-heartedly. “Imagine that,” he said, “the little one I saved from the wolves in Tol Sirion could almost be a wolf himself. Tell me, are you used to this kind of thing?”  
  
Orodreth flushed, but kept his head high. “I am not ignorant of it,” he said, “I am not a child.”  
  
Celegorm rolled his hips up against Orodreth, smiling as he found his cock already half-hard.  
  
“I knew you looked at me with desire, but I did not expect it to be so fierce.”  
  
Orodeth bit his lip, his voice coming out shaky as he held back a moan.  
  
“You may look at me and see only the Vanyar blood -” he shook his head, his golden hair falling free, “but I am of the House of Finwe as you are, and I will have what I want.”  
  
Such confidence in his voice, despite the tremor. Celegorm had chosen well when he had thought to slake his desire with the wild-eyed warrior he had rescued from Tol Sirion, the elf with a torn and bleeding leg who had still struggled in Celegorm’s arms, insisting that he could walk, and who did - shaky and unsteady, pale in the face, but on his own feet without support - when they had been confronted by more wolves, and forced to fight back-to-back.  
  
See an elf in battle, you saw what they were like in bed, Celegorm reminded himself. He should have remembered that instead of thinking, even for a moment, that Orodreth might be shy and docile.  
  
“Then take what you want,” he said softly, and wound his hands in the younger elf’s hair and jerked the golden locks hard, pulling their mouths together like enemy forces colliding. Orodreth hissed and swore angrily into his mouth, unable to free himself from Celegorm’s tight grip on his hair, and retaliated by rocking his hips, riding against Celegorm’s already painfully hard cock. The layers of cloth between them were stifling, and Celegorm let out a groan of impatience as much as lust.  
  
“For Orome’s sake, get your clothes off,” he said, and Orodreth grinned, a sharp flash that truly marked him as one of Finwe’s line, and his fingers twined through Celegorm’s hair as well, tugging enough to tease without offering satisfaction.  
  
“All in good time,” he said against the corner of Celegorm’s mouth, and bit his neck; and Celegorm panted for breath as the friction between them became almost unbearable, and he knew that if Orodreth wished he could ride Celegorm to completion without the barrier of cloth being taken away.  
  
 _Brat._ A smile tugged at the corner of Celegorm’s mouth as Orodreth’s callused fingertips slid down Celegorm’s chest, away from his hair, going underneath the half-undone fastenings of his shirt to tease his nipples. _He wants to have this all on his own terms._  
  
Telling the younger elf what his uncle had been up to this evening might take the wind out of his sails, but as Orodreth rocked against him, teeth scraping over his collarbone and breath coming hot and fast, he decided the news could easily wait until later.  
   
Much later.


End file.
